


☕ i'll make a cup of coffee before you go, once the party's over <3

by Crazy_Comet_97



Series: 😈 Ghoul Bitches (ahem, boyfriends) 😈 [1]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsloved Supernatural (Web Series), Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Angst, Boyfriends, Buzzfeed Unsolved Postmortem, Buzzfeed Unsolved References, Buzzfeed Unsolved Supernatural, Buzzfeed Unsolved True Crime, Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Minor Character Death, Podfic Welcome, Ryan Bergara Loves Shane Madej, Sad Ending, Same-Sex Marriage, Shane Madej Loves Ryan Bergara, Sickfic, Suicide Attempt, The Ghoul Boys (Buzzfeed Unsolved), completed work, shyan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25015894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy_Comet_97/pseuds/Crazy_Comet_97
Summary: Why of all people that could possibly get sick in the whole of the goddamn United States and the world, was he picked out of everyone to get sick?
Relationships: Andrew Ilnyckyj & Steven Lim, Andrew Ilnyckyj/Steven Lim, Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Series: 😈 Ghoul Bitches (ahem, boyfriends) 😈 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850950
Comments: 13
Kudos: 41





	☕ i'll make a cup of coffee before you go, once the party's over <3

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by:
> 
> ~ death bed [coffee for your head] (feat.Beabadoobee) - Powfu  
> ~ Before You Go - Lewis Capaldi  
> ~ when the party's over - Billie Eilish  
> ~ and some hella depressing quarantine vibes 🤙🤙

He knows it's been a while, since he's been here. Fair play, the /look/ that most of his old coworkers had given him the day of really made it so much harder. He was always a stickler for emotions and that day….that fucking day, it was like a goddamn ocean.

Swallowed him up and then cruelly, spat him out without so much as an oar or a map or clue of what the hell to do or where the hell to go from here. He supposes that despite having been there through everything, it's also as if he was never there at all, or worse, a spectator, watching and thinking and feeling and unable to stop what was coming.

He hasn't been fully back in his own head since it happened, it's been three months, maybe longer if he really analyses the time passing between the last time he heard gravel as fine and grayscale as the stuff he's currently walking to his destination on flicking his jeans and shoes to-

~

_walking, no, /running/ on LA's sun-drenched shores, Steven five steps behind him when he outright tackles him, the salt and the sand and the water mingling with the tears on his face as he keeps pushing at him, screaming at him to 'let him go', struggling as he pleads with him to just let go of him-_

~

His own voice, despite, pained, broken, haunts him, but only when he's alone.

Maybe Steven as well, if he's honest with himself. He doesn't know how he's managed to keep him from doing worse this long.

Wasn't like he didn't have a reason for doing anything anymore, despite that being the truth.

~

_"Hey." His head turns to look distantly at the figure on the bed that calls him, big brown eyes drawing him in like a rope being pulled, even if it's weaker than it once was before and his own eyes are a thousand miles away in a past that doesn't matter now. "You better not be beating yourself up over there. I know you. All too well."_

_"All too well." The sentiment is echoed, covered over by a warm smile as fake as the denial that rises up in his chest at the way the look that's given in return get under his skin and goes straight to the moneymaker in his chest, making it ache._

~

Fuck. Fuck, why did it have to be him, of all people? Of all people that could possibly get sick, in Los Angeles, in California, in the whole of the goddamn United States and the world, was he picked out of everyone to get sick?

~

_"You don't have to do this, you know." There's a buzz in his left ear as the voice, shaky and full of ache and exhaustion, speaks by his side as the arm around his neck twitches._

_"I want to." It comes out as a whisper, but that's all they need between them, a kiss exchanged form one to the other's forehead in stark protest._

_"I'll all limbs, I'm surprised you even got this far with me."_

_"I told you 6 years ago that you were stuck with me, can't get rid of me that easily. I'm like a demon that's possessing your lanky ass."_

_"Demons aren't real, sweetheart."_

_"Fucking bite me, asshole."_

~

It wasn't fair.

He remembers saying that to Steven,

when he wakes up later in his apartment after their beach romp.

It isn't fair.

It's obvious that he's seen everything, given he's been changed into sleep clothing and can barely see thanks to how swollen his eyes are from crying, but the scars martyring his wrists for the last 2 weeks aren't invisible, as much as he wishes they would be for both their sakes.

Steven suggests, quite gently despite his usual nature, along with Andrew ( _bastards, the both of them, at least you have who you fucking love, his mind seethes venomously_ ) that he get help, go see someone who can fix him up, patch up the clear holes he's made for himself in the wake of everything.

It's not that fucking easy.

~

_"It's not that fucking easy to forget, you know!" His voice bellows across the room, disarray surrounding him and chaos, anger, sadness, the whole works practically jumping off of him as he just stands there, breathless._

_"Forget what? What do you mean? I thought you were like, in a coma or something being you were sick and all and Steven was jumping on my ass cause you didn't call this morning and no one's seen you in the last like, 3 days-"_

_"I'm dying, Ryan. Fucking- goddamnit, I'm dying, okay? That stupid doctor I went to called me back and told me I'm dying. Congratulations."_

_The blood is suddenly so loud in his ears that he doesn't hear his heart start to break._

_~_

It's still a bitter pill to swallow. That revelation. The diagnosis. His heart was failing, something wrong with the way it looked and sounded and more. They didn't know what at first, only that it was bad and progressing rapidly. They eventually figured it out. Viral Cardiomyopathy. Caused indirectly by the flu. One in a million chance of it happening. The fucking flu killed his best friend.

~

_"What the hell do you mean you won't get a transplant?!" He can't fathom, no, cannot believe what he's hearing right now. Only a few days ago, he'd just found out his best friend was fucking dying and now, as soon as a viable option popped up, he said no!?_

_"There's no point, Ry." There's that damned pensive smile again, the one that made him fall head over heels for him almost 4 years ago now and want to kick himself in the shin since._

_"The only thing they can do is put me on the transplant list, there's no one around who has a heart. Go figure. So what's the point of signing my life to a series of statistics and numbers?"_

_He fucking hates that he has a point and the anger burning his veins proves that._

_He wants to say something, hell, he wants to raise a fuss, holler and smack some /sense/ into him, but he knows that he's already making sense and the exhaustion is evident in his voice as he finally speaks, teeth clenched and eyes suspiciously wet, but rapidly drying._

_"Fine. I trust you. I always trust you."_

_Trust is a very stupid thing to cry over at 12:00 am in your apartment's bathroom, he found._

~

37 days. 37 days after that appointment, he was gone.

4 days later, his funeral was held and now, 93 days after that, here he finally was.

Just as he promised he would be, a little late, but...it didn't matter.

Heart hammering in his chest, he finally makes it to the west side of the cemetery,

squinting to make out the words on the grave as the sun splinters its rays through the trees covered around the patch of land like bodyguards of the dead.

**SHANE ALEXANDER MADEJ**

**16th of May, 1986 - 4th February, 2023**

**A friend to all and a heart bigger than most.**

**Beloved son of Mark and Sherry, brother to Scott,**

**loving husband of Ryan and father of Obi**

**REST IN PEACE**

Oh yeah. That.

~

_He knew that he didn't have long to go now. He'd been carrying him in and out of bed lately, practically living in his apartment, yet still paying the rent on his own, his best friend's body seemingly too exhausted to be bothered to work properly anymore._

_Stubbornly, he wanted to will his body into working, to fighting his heart and fixing him and keeping him here with him and Obi, but he knew that was selfish on them both, no matter how either felt about the impending death lingering in the distance._

_It's in the middle of the afternoon, fittingly, where this stupid, mad idea comes up._

_"Marry me." He suddenly blurts out, as he watches him watching the TV._

_There's a hitch of breath and a weak stare from his bed as he just looks at him. "W-What?"_

_"Marry me." His tone is more serious now and he's somehow ended up on his knees beside him on the bed, dark eyes staring straight at him. "Please." It's begging now._

_He doesn't know just how, but something falls over his face, like he's going to burst into tears before that smile, that damn smile, is back and it's weak like the rest of him, but it's there and it's tangible as he rasps out. "Okay."_

_Ultimately, against any and all advice from any medical professional on the planet, Sara (who is an angel, literally and figuratively) is coerced into driving as they lie in the back of the car, the smell of the metallic-like synthetic oxygen puffing from the nasal cannula in Shane's nose stark in the new car smell that Sara's vehicle seems to always have, but they couldn't care less._

_4 hours later, there's a heap of missed calls from Steven and Andrew and Curly and so many fucking people, but he only cares from the tears running down both his and Shane's cheeks and the feeling of cold metal both on his finger and resting against his leg, the dizzying lights of Vegas almost sending them into a spiral if it weren't for Sara bringing them to their senses._

_The rings aren't perfect, just some basic gold bands that he shelled out practically his entire savings account for, but the look on his now husband's face made it all stop hurting._

_If only for a moment._

~

Gingerly, he stands there for almost 5 minutes before he walks over to the now slightly older looking soil, to the stone marked with Shane's name and drops a wreath of Sampaguita* onto the stone, the pure white of the petals almost making the whole dark and deary feel of the place somehow brighter, but he's not quite finished yet.

Ever the believer, from the pockets of his coat, he produces a spirit box and settles it onto the stone's ledge where the wealth lies against it, the wind trickling though a little as he switches it on, stepping back with his hands shaking.

"Hey, big guy."

There's a beat and the noise that both are familiar with suddenly dies down, it's quiet, too quiet, before-

"...Hey, little guy."

**Author's Note:**

> *Sampaguita = Also known as Arabian Jasmine, Sampaguita is a Filipino flower meaning in translation from the words sumpa kita, "I promise you".
> 
> This flower is a symbol of love, purity, devotion, dedication, strength and fidelity and is often used at Filipino weddings.
> 
> Ryan is part Filipino, so...made sense :)


End file.
